<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>An Eternity of Pain by MorganaGreenleaf</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082988">An Eternity of Pain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganaGreenleaf/pseuds/MorganaGreenleaf'>MorganaGreenleaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>After the not-Apocalypse, Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Chronic Pain, Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Gabriel is a dick, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Major Whump, Self-Hating Crowley (Good Omens), The Fall (Good Omens), Torture, Whump, crowley is self-sacrificing, lots of blood, quite gory and graphic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,504</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganaGreenleaf/pseuds/MorganaGreenleaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Not-Apocalypse, Heaven comes for Aziraphale.</p><p>Crowley talks them into thinking he had Aziraphale under a spell, to get them to leave him alone.</p><p>They take him to Heaven and torture him.</p><p>Lots of whump, blood, gore, torture etc.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day it all went to Hell (or Heaven, more like), dawned just like any other. The Sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the sky was a brilliant blue, with only a slight whiff of cloud.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale had agreed to dine at the Ritz that evening, so Crowley pulled up his Bentley outside the bookshop promptly at five-thirty, ready to chauffeur Aziraphale there. Slotting into a carpark that had miraculously come free, he turned the engine off sharply, the music (<em>Love of My Life,</em> by Queen) abruptly stopping. Crowley sauntered across the pavement and flung the doors open, unable to contain his excitement for their date. Dinner. Whatever.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel?” he called, “Ready for dinner?”</p><p> </p><p>No answer.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley strode into the back room. Aziraphale was often lost to the world when he got his hands on some new books-particularly the rare editions. Crowley hadn’t heard from him for two months after the Christmas when he’d bought Aziraphale the Codex Leicester.</p><p> </p><p>The back room was empty.</p><p> </p><p>“Angel?” Crowley yelled, starting to get worried. “Aziraphale?”</p><p> </p><p>THUD.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s head immediately jerked upwards, to the upper floor, where the thud had come from. He sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, and burst into the only room upstairs-Aziraphale’s almost unused bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley had been worried, but he wasn’t even close to prepared for the horrifying sight inside.</p><p> </p><p>The archangels Gabriel, Sandalphon and Uriel were looming over a bloody mess on the floor, which Crowley realised with a start was Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>Without stopping to think, he ran at Gabriel, intent on tearing him to shreds for what he’d inflicted upon his angel. The angels simply joined hands in a circle around Aziraphale, and in a flash of white light, they vanished, leaving a white beam of quickly fading light behind.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley didn’t pause to consider his options, or construct a plan, he just stepped straight in and followed them.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He came out in one of the gleaming white back rooms of Heaven. He shuddered, repressing the memories of the last time he’d been there, right before he Fell.</p><p> </p><p>He turned around, and saw two grunt angels dragging Aziraphale into one of the rooms he knew to be a torture room. Crowley followed them on silent feet, slipping into the room behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“We know you’re there, demon,” Gabriel said.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley smirked. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Gabe. Although it seems you are.”</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel’s eyes flashed at the nickname, but he seemed more interested in the latter half of Crowley’s sentence. “And why, pray tell, am I an idiot?” he asked with mock politeness.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m the Serpent of Eden. I stopped the bloody Apocalypse. Do you really think it’s beneath me to hide my handiwork on a lowly Principality?”</p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley saw Aziraphale lift his head slightly off the floor, leaving a bloody smudge behind. He locked eyes, and tried to silently convey his message.</p><p> </p><p>“What the blazes do you mean?” Gabriel asked, shocked.</p><p> </p><p>“Like I’m gonna tell you,” Crowley snorted.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you follow us into Heaven? Death wish?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m a demon, dumbarse. I sin. I brag. And right now, I’m bragging about my brilliant, six-thousand-year long deception of Aziraphale,” Crowley lied.</p><p> </p><p>“You-you corrupted Aziraphale?” Uriel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yup,” Crowley said, “He’s made it a bit harder recently. Been fighting me since I started stopping the Apocalypse. It was <em>very </em>hard to keep my hold on him, you should be proud. But I don’t need him any more. My work is done. I have triumphed over the angels.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, Crowley turned around and walked out of the room, hoping Gabriel would fall for his lies.</p><p> </p><p>He did.</p><p> </p><p>“Grab him,” Gabriel ordered, “Chain him up. And take the Principality to the healers. They might be able to work out what the demon’s done.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley faked fighting the angels that grabbed him, and locked angelic manacles around his wrists and ankles. As he was dragged into another room and chained to the wall, he saw Aziraphale being wheeled away on a stretcher. That was enough for him. If Heaven believed him, they would take their anger out on him, and leave his angel alone. And Aziraphale could go back and live among them, and live happily ever after.</p><p> </p><p>He could endure Heaven for Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After what he estimated to be approximately three hours, Gabriel and Sandalphon entered his cell, looking rather grim.</p><p> </p><p>“Our healers can’t work out what you’ve done to Aziraphale. Care to share?” Gabriel asked, looking like he hoped Crowley wouldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d rather not. Trade secrets, and all that,” said Crowley casually, folding his arms and trying to appear at ease, as much as he could chained to a wall.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel smiled, and walked forward slowly. Crowley tried to ignore the small ball of fear curling its way into his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel leaned forward, and grabbed the manacles on Crowley’s wrists. They began to glow faintly, and inscriptions carved themselves into the pure white metal.</p><p> </p><p>He’d blessed them.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley hissed in pain as the manacles burned his flesh, turning it red and angry in seconds. Gabriel stood up, and yanked Crowley up with him, slamming him into the wall. His head knocked hard against it, and his sunglasses fell off, leaving his yellow snake eyes exposed.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel wasn’t done. He ripped of Crowley’s clothes: first his black jacket, then his stylish grey necktie, his shirt and singlet, and then his trousers, Sandalphon subtly miracling his shoes and socks away.</p><p> </p><p>He was naked except for his undies, and he shuddered to think at what Gabriel wanted them gone for.</p><p> </p><p>“Having fun?” he asked with a cocky smile.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel carefully chained Crowley’s hands to an anchor in the ceiling, hoisting them above his head, and Crowley gasped as that made him rest his wrists against the angelic manacles, his toes barely brushing the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Last chance to tell us,” Gabriel offered. Crowley didn’t answer. “Let’s begin.”</p><p> </p><p>Sandalphon came over, bearing two whips, each with nine tails extending from the end, each tail ending in a mean-looking iron hook.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel took one, drew his arm back, and let the whip fly across Crowley’s back.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley bit his tongue to keep from screaming, drawing blood.</p><p> </p><p><em>One,</em> he thought dully. He kept counting as Sandalphon and Gabriel took turns to whip him on his back, his legs, chest, feet and arms. <em>Two. Three. Four.</em></p><p> </p><p>It took fifteen strikes for him to scream. Two hooks hit the same place on a muscle, and he couldn’t hold it in.</p><p> </p><p>It took twenty-seven strikes for him to lose count.</p><p> </p><p>After forty-three, he blacked out.</p><p> </p><p>After fifty, the angels left him, releasing him from the ceiling, letting him flop on the floor in a bloody mess.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley awoke with a groan. He was soaked in blood, and an absolute mess, with skin hanging off him in strips on his back, and covered in bruises and cuts. Injuries that might have killed a human, and, if not for the grace of Heaven, him. He snorted.</p><p> </p><p>He sat up against the wall, doing his best to ignore the agonising pain in his back, and limit the skin contact with the manacles. The first thing he noticed was a white chair in the centre of the room. The second thing he noticed was white shelves on the opposite end of the room, on either side of the door. One side had torture weapons carefully organised on it, most of which Crowley was familiar with, and the other side had glass jars full of (what he assumed was) holy water.</p><p> </p><p>The angels must have been watching him, because at that moment Gabriel entered the room, followed by Uriel and Sandalphon. Today they didn’t even speak to him. Uriel and Sandalphon just picked him up, unchained him from the wall, and forced him into the chair, placing his arms on the armrests. He watched in morbid fascination as the cuffs on his wrists melded into the chair, and the shackles on his ankles followed suite.</p><p> </p><p>“Demon, you are not even worthy of our presence,” Gabriel declared, “And yet we are here today because you will not reveal what you have inflicted upon on our Principality. You will be at the mercy of our best torturers until you tell us. I’m not renowned for my patience. So tell us.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley pretended to consider it for a second, being the evil, self-centred demon that he was.</p><p> </p><p>“I really don’t want angels to know my secrets,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>“Tragic,” said Gabriel sarcastically, “We’ll have to try this new device we designed specially for you. Usually we start small and work upwards, but we’ll make a special case for a demon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t wait,” Crowley quipped.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel smiled, and Michael entered the room, holding a large white basin. She walked behind Crowley, and he craned his neck to see what she was doing. She placed it on a low table that appeared out of nowhere behind him, and then carefully filled it to the brim with water from the jugs. With that done, she left again.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy water,” Gabriel clarified, nodding at the basin, “Still don’t want to tell us?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not particularly,” Crowley answered, trying to hide his fear.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel grinned, and nodded at Uriel. She turned a lever that appeared next to the door, and Crowley felt the chair tipping slowly backwards.</p><p> </p><p>Towards the holy water.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Crowley said, in disbelief. “No. No. No.”</p><p> </p><p>He thrashed against the shackles, ignoring the burning, but the chair tipped back, submerging his head in the basin of holy water.</p><p> </p><p>The pain was something he’d felt only once before. From his Fall. </p><p> </p><p> Crowley couldn’t contain his scream, and the holy water funnelled into his mouth, burning its way down his throat. Blisters appeared on his face, and his stomach groaned and churned. He felt the chair rising, and he was soon upright again, coughing and spluttering, leaving bright spots of blood on the floor. He noticed with some satisfaction that some of it landed on Uriel’s clean cream slacks.</p><p> </p><p>“You pathetic little snake,” Gabriel tutted, “Not so cocky now, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Got more than you,” Crowley muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“What was that?” Gabriel demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“You heard me,” Crowley smirked. Gabriel strode forward, and backhanded him across the face. His head snapped to the side, and immediately began to swell up. A few of his newly-formed blisters burst, and pus gushed down his face.</p><p> </p><p>“That is disgusting,” Uriel said, “You are disgusting. And unworthy of my presence.”</p><p> </p><p>  With that, she turned and left the room, heading over to the Healers’ Quarters.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Uriel entered the private medical wing, where they put gravely injured angels in. She was met by Sanael, the Head Healer.</p><p> </p><p>“How is he?” Uriel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s in a bad way,” Sanael answered, “But if you can manage to get the demon to tell you what he did, we should be able to heal him. Until then, I can wake him up, talk to him, but that’s it.”</p><p> </p><p>Sanael led Uriel into Aziraphale’s private room. He was lying on a bed, under crisp white sheets, a damp flannel on his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>Sanael pulled up a chair beside him and sat down, then rested her hand on his cheek. A faint glow emanated from it, and then Aziraphale blinked slowly awake.</p><p> </p><p>“Where-where am I?” he mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“Heaven,” Sanael answered gently.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Crowley? What have you done to him?” Aziraphale screamed, jumping up and running frantically towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>Uriel blocked his path, and firmly pushed him back into bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Where is he?” Aziraphale yelled.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s still enchanted,” Sanael said.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not under a spell!” Aziraphale protested, tears streaming down his face.</p><p> </p><p>Uriel conjured up angelic manacles, wrapped bandages around Aziraphale’s wrists to protect him, and then chained him to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me go! I want to see Crowley!” Aziraphale demanded.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not going anywhere near that disgusting little demon until we’ve broken the curse. In the meantime, you’ll stay here and heal,” Uriel commanded.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing to him?” Aziraphale asked meekly.</p><p> </p><p>“The demon is being tortured down in our dungeons. When he tells us what he’s done, we’ll kill him,” said Uriel expressionlessly.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale gasped. “I want to see him!”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” said Uriel, and left.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Uriel returned to Crowley’s cell briefly, to tell Gabriel that Aziraphale was well under the demon’s spell.</p><p> </p><p>By then, Crowley had had four more dips into the holy water, and had barely any skin left on his face. Now Gabriel and Sandalphon were taking turns to beat him over the rest of his body, and flick him with holy water.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do to Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked, delivering a punch to Crowley’s gut. He bent forwards instinctively, wheezing, but Sandalphon yanked him back, and bound him directly to the chair back with angelic chains that burned his skin.</p><p> </p><p>He screamed, and Gabriel smiled. “Ready to tell us yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Go. To. Hell.” Crowley answered, spitting blood.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do to Aziraphale?” Gabriel repeated, “Tell us, and it’ll be a lot better for you. We can keep this up for as long as necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley weighed his options. Betray Aziraphale, get him tortured, and cause him to fall. Or stay silent, and be tortured for all eternity. Crowley was no stranger to pain, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out forever.</p><p> </p><p>But for Aziraphale, he’d take it. An eternity of pain.</p><p> </p><p>Still, there was no harm in postponing another beating.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Crowley whispered, “I’ll tell you. I used the simple angel enslavement spell. You can undo it. Just say <em> ‘memoriam de loco voluptatis ad angustos a facie serpentis </em><em>carmine vocabatur’ </em>. I won’t have any control over him anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I should believe you why, exactly?” Gabriel enquired.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think I enjoy this?” Crowley asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Test it,” Gabriel ordered, and Sandalphon left. “Just you and me, snake,” he murmured, drawing a dagger from his pocket. “If you’re about to die, I might as well have some fun.” He flipped the dagger, and brought the hilt down hard on Crowley’s hand, shattering bones. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley let out a strangled cry. </p><p> </p><p>“I. Told. You. What. You. Wanted. Let. Me. Go.” he panted.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel ignored him, and stabbed the dagger through Crowley’s forearm.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t bother to suppress his scream this time, and faintly, heard his voice crack.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel didn’t get a chance to torment him further, as Sandalphon burst back into the room, pale faced and sweaty.</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel,” he said, “The demon spoke the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right here,” Crowley muttered. Gabriel waved a hand, and a scrap of fabric appeared around his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Aziraphale’s back. But the demon forced him to do even more unspeakable things than we thought,” Sandalphon continued. He placed two fingers on Gabriel’s temple, and the knowledge passed into his mind too. </p><p> </p><p>Gabriel turned to Crowley, furious. He grabbed Crowley around the neck, picked him up, miracling the chains away, and slammed him against the wall.</p><p> </p><p>“Wings. Out. Now,” Gabriel growled. Crowley stared at him. “Get your wings out, demon.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley had a feeling he knew what was coming, but he pulled his wings out anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Sandalphon handed Gabriel two spikes made of the same metal as his manacles, and Gabriel kept him pinned against the wall with a knee while he drove a spike through the alula of each wing.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley screamed against the gag, until his vocal chords broke and a barely-there high pitched whine came out instead. Gabriel removed his knee, meaning his full weight was on his wings. Gabriel healed his head and vocal chords - but didn’t clean off the blood, until his screams were back in full force.</p><p> </p><p>“How <em> dare </em>you, demon?” Gabriel hissed, grabbing his chin. “How dare you? You are nothing compared to us, yet you would taint one of us with your demonic presence? We were going to give you the mercy of a quick death, but what you’ve done, we can’t let that stand. The rest of your kind might get ideas. And we can’t have that. So,” Gabriel gently picked up the index finger on Crowley’s left hand, and quickly broke it.</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel ripped the gag out so as to hear Crowley’s screams properly, and repeated the same process with the rest of his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow, we’ll make an example of you,” Gabriel decided, “In front of Heaven. Might get a few demons to witness it, too. Get word around. I will not stand for this.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, Gabriel and Sandalphon left Crowley, pinned to the wall by his wings, body bruised and battered, hand, fingers and heart shattered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once, Crowley slept for a century.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night however, he didn’t get a wink. He was too busy fretting over the next morning. What they’d do to him. If they truly believed Aziraphale was under his spell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel flung open his cell door ridiculously early, followed by Sandalphon, and six grunt angels. Gabriel was carrying a sleek silver collar, with beautiful engravings on the outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel immediately noticed Crowley’s gaze on the collar, and held it up, smiling. “Yes, demon. This is for you. Can’t have you running off on us. And let’s face it, you deserve it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel tapped twice on the collar. Dozens of huge metal spikes popped out on the inside, and the collar opened. Gabriel locked it around Crowley’s neck, and he did his best not to cringe. He didn’t need them knowing what affected him the most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have him ready in ten minutes,” Gabriel ordered, and left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sandalphon directed the grunts into what Crowley assumed was preparation for a big torture session in front of all the angels. They healed him just enough that all his wounds closed, wrapped his wings in heavy chains, and then chained him up even more, between his wrists and ankles. Finally, they put his gag back in, and tied a blindfold over his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt them remove the spikes in his wings, and immediately fell to the floor in a messy, bloody heap. Two grunts picked him up, grabbing him by the upper arms, and half-carried, half-dragged him out of his cell, out of the dungeons, through a disorientating number of corridors, and up some stairs. Eventually, he heard a door open, and his blindfold was pulled off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered the amphitheatre the angels were assembled in. He’d been in there before, just over six thousand years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stands that were filled with angels occupied three-quarters of the edge. The remaining section had a huge Heaven’s crest on it-a pair of angels’ wings. Below it, on a raised platform, Gabriel sat on a huge silver throne, while Uriel and Michael sat on smaller thrones either side of him, with another left empty for Sandalphon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley was dragged forwards, and the jeers of the angels rang in his ears as they anticipated his punishment. The angels deposited him on the floor in front of the platform, and one of them chained him to a metal hook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They weren’t taking any chances, the cowards. Crowley decided to take it as a compliment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The archangels descended from their platform, and stood in a row in front of Crowley. He lay on the ground, in a bloody heap, utterly helpless to the angels’ whims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This demon,” Gabriel said, his voice booming, “Enslaved one of our number to his will, and forced him to commit a series of heinous acts, including tempting thousands of souls, claiming them for Hell. He also used our angel to stop the Armageddon, depriving us of our war and victory over Hell. This is not something we can let swing by, so let him be an example for all demons considering doing the same thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded at something towards Crowley’s right, and he realised with a start that the angels were filming his punishment, and probably broadcasting it straight to Hell. Crowley’s cheeks burned with shame as he worked out just how many beings would see it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s begin,” Gabriel said. Two angels pulled up a complex metal frame, that Crowley recognised. He immediately tried to crawl away, tugging at his chains, pulling them to their limit, ignoring the way his skin burned and chafed and the spikes dug into his neck. Gabriel laughed, and picked him up, carrying him easily, even as he flailed about, over to the frame, rechaining him over there. Crowley braced himself for what would come next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel folded out one wing, and Sandalphon did the other. They fixed the end of each wing to the metal frame. Next they dipped their hands in holy water. Slowly, they came up close to his primaries, savouring his fear as he tried to move away. Gabriel reached down, and yanked a handful of his feathers out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s scream was so loud and piercing that the gag barely muffled it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scream, little demon. See where it gets you,” Gabriel taunted, pulling more feathers out. Sandalphon started on the other wing, and Crowley shrieked in agony, trying to shuffle away, to no avail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed like hours later when Gabriel pulled his last feather out. His screams had long since faded, and now he was simply sobbing. They wouldn’t let him pass out. The angels examined the exposed bones of his wings, then brought out their equipment. Carefully, they drilled holes along his bones, and then looped angelic chains through them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With their job done, they bound his wings behind him, and moved him so that he was hanging by his wrists from the frame, his feet maybe a foot off the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any angel who wishes to take a personal vengeance upon the demon may do so now,” Gabriel announced. Crowley’s stomach dropped. What if Aziraphale came? Only now was Aziraphale under his spell, but Crowley didn’t think he’d be able to face Aziraphale hurting him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Quartermaster was more than happy to unleash his cane on Crowley’s back, the first of thousands of angels.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he hadn’t been on the receiving end, Crowley would have laughed when the cane almost cut through his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for him, he was on the receiving end, although by that time he was numb to the pain. He no longer cried, nor screamed, just faded in and out of consciousness. His nerves were probably all dead by now, which he could count as bonus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” Gabriel ordered, “Stop it </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If his body breaks completely, then even our grace cannot save him. Take him away and heal him, and we’ll resume tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt, through the haze, several angels carefully lift him down from the frame, and lay him down on a stretcher, before quickly carrying away.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>please note that the angels are using their miracle magic to stop him from discorporating</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, a few things.<br/>I'm in the process of rewriting chapter 3, cause it made zero sense to me when I reread it, so feel free to go back to it.<br/>I'm also going back and making a few other changes.<br/>Holy manacles are now called angelic manacles, but otherwise are exactly the same<br/>I'm also operating under the fact that it hurts demons to touch anything holy/blessed, and hurts angels to touch anything hellish/damned.</p><p>And please remember that Aziraphale is under Crowley's spell, so he's not in his right mind. So it's not a dark!Aziraphale thing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley awoke lying in a bed in some sort of hospital. His wrists and ankles were chained to an iron railing on the edge of the bed. Six angels stood guard at the end of his bed, each bearing a pitcher of holy water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley groaned, and flipped back the thin cotton blanket covering him, and discovered his abdomen was wrapped in several layers of linen bandages. Realising the fact he was about to fall in half was the only reason the angels weren’t torturing him, Crowley lay back in bed, deciding to take advantage of it. Ignoring the shackles digging into him, he fell asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two weeks later, not that Crowley knew it, his abdomen was fully healed. He wasn’t awoken by that, though. He was awoken by the yells of an angel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is he? I want to talk to him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Principality Aziraphale,” a calm voice said. Crowley’s eyes snapped open. “You have not fully healed from the effects of the demon’s spell. When you have, then you may see him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something cracked deep inside Crowley. He’d held out a sliver of hope that his spell had failed, but it seemed he was more skilled than he gave himself credit for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that him?” Aziraphale shouted at the healer. It was wrong to hear such loud and harsh words from him. “Is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t see him yet, Aziraphale. Lie down or we will sedate you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley watched Aziraphale push past his guards, silently reminding himself that he’d enchanted Aziraphale to hate him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale strode over to his bedside, and the guards watched, letting it play out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s chin and tilted it up so their eyes met. “Why did you do this, demon? How could you think you would get away with this? The sins you made me commit? Lead others to? You will suffer for eternity for this. You will never know peace. I will make sure of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sanael gently pulled Aziraphale off, shushing him. Crowley lay back in bed, thinking over what Aziraphale had said. The spell had been completely successful, that was now clear. Aziraphale now believed he’d spent six thousand years doing the work of a demon, under Crowley’s bidding. That meant Aziraphale could fit in with the angels once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could escape now, and Aziraphale would be fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took another two weeks for the rest of Crowley’s body to fully heal, and then the angels brought him back to the amphitheatre, chained him to the frame, and continued beating him. For six days they continued, being more careful now, spreading the blows over his body. Eventually, Gabriel grew bored of simple beatings, and moved Crowley back to the dungeons. From there, he played around with blessings, blessing the cell, the manacles, and at one point, even Crowley. The last blessing didn’t stick, but it was the most agonising half hour Crowley had spent in Heaven so far. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing that stopped him from admitting he hadn’t enchanted Aziraphale in the first place was the fact that Aziraphale was now safe, and could live a long, happy life with the angels. Although Gabriel would never believe him if he said that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for him, the worst was yet to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley has been imprisoned in Heaven for three months when Aziraphale first visited him in the dungeons. Gabriel had just finished with him for that day, having experimented with injecting holy water directly into Crowley’s bloodstream. Gabriel left him hanging limply in his chains against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard an angel enter his cell, but didn’t bother raising his head to see which one. Nowadays, he usually kept his head down and his mouth shut. Let them think him broken, Crowley thought. Because the other option he would not accept.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>broken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Demon,” said Aziraphale, “Fully recovered from the effects of your ghastly spell, I finally have leave to spend a little time with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked up, saw it was, in fact, Aziraphale, and looked at the floor again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Already beaten into submission,” Aziraphale chuckled, “I’d hoped you’d have a little more fight left. Make this a little more fun for me. Still,” he continued, drawing a small, delicate knife from his coat pocket, “You’ll scream all the same for me, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale shifted his grip on the knife, and rested it against the one clear patch of Crowley’s skin, just above his abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t,” Crowley whimpered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale backhanded him across the face. “Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>beg for mercy, you pathetic little demon! You didn’t show mercy to all those souls you sent to Hell, so why should I show you any?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in that wrung true in Crowley. He didn’t protest when Aziraphale dug the knife into his skin, and, with the skill of an experienced torturer, slowly shredded his skin apart, before moving below, cutting and slicing with precision, to cause the maximum amount of pain with the minimum amount of damage. Crowley didn’t scream. He didn’t yell, shriek or shout.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cried until his ugly yellow eyes had run out of tears, and then he let out odd wheezing noises and hiccoughs as he tried to expel tears that weren’t there. Aziraphale kept silent throughout the whole procedure. He looked disdainfully at Crowley as he cut him up, but when he left, looking back at the bloody, pitiful mess he’d left on the floor that was Crowley, Crowley thought he saw the tiniest hint of pity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was Aziraphale. No spell could stop his belief that all beings had good in them, and all beings deserve mercy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, when Aziraphale did not return, Crowley assumed that it had been a mere trick of the light.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>NOTE (1/1/21)</p><p>I haven't forgotten this fic, I promise. I just lost a load of motivation and I've been suffering from severe writer's block,</p><p>but i'll be back really, really soon I promise. </p><p>By 10/1 at the latest</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry this chapter's so short, but I'll have another one up really soon!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After leaving the demon’s cell, Aziraphale miracled the knife away, before heading back up to the top floor to report to Gabriel. He knocked on the door, entering after Gabriel yelled “Come in!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel was sitting in a throne-like leather armchair, leaning back far enough to face the ceiling, half-asleep. “How did it go?” he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s broken,” Aziraphale said, “Didn’t scream. Just cried. Even begged me to stop. Whatever you’ve been doing, it’s working very well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. Report to the Quartermaster at once. He shall assign you work in one of the offices. If you’re this susceptible to demons then we can’t have you out in the field. Dismissed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale tried not to feel disappointed as he left Gabriel’s office. It was to be expected. He was lucky he hadn’t been punished himself. Like that demon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That demon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That demon had forced him to do all sorts of terrible things. Thousands of people had gone astray because of him. And Aziraphale didn’t even know his name. Six thousand years of shared history, no matter how vile, and the demon hadn’t bothered to give him a name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale finally reached the Quartermaster’s desk, and received his new assignment folder. As he wandered in the direction of the stairs to the work levels, he opened it and leafed through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AZIRAPHALE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>RANK: PRINCIPALITY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>ASSIGNMENT: GUARD CORRIDOR 42B </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corridor guard duty was usually reserved for the very lowest ranking angels. It wasn’t a real job. They didn’t trust him, evidently. But 42B was in the soul sorting sector, so Aziraphale would be guarding the souls making their way into Heaven. He supposed that was the best way to make amends for what he’d done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he took up a post at the end of Corridor 42B, and kept a sharp eye out for any demons looking to break in. None came.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A month later, there had still been nothing. A month of standing at the end of a corridor that demons would never manage to get to. A month of wasted time. A month to listen to passing angels, and think over what they said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>None of them seemed to live very interesting lives. And they all discussed work; how many souls they’d put through today, how many blessings they’d performed, how many people they’d converted. Dull and mundane, rather like his job.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of the angels coming from the top floor, however, were discussing the demon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crawly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was called. Apparently Gabriel was planning another torture showcase in the ampitheatre. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale doubted he’d be permitted to attend, seeing as Heaven could never afford to drop its guard. But he still wanted to see Crawly again. Try and find out why he’d done what he’d done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of Aziraphale’s requests to see Crawly again were denied. But one day, when Gabriel was out delivering an important message, Aziraphale deserted his post and snuck up to the top level, where Crawly was. None of the guards questioned him, happily unlocking the demon’s cell for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crawly was slumped against the far wall, looking like he’d been chucked into a blender. There was a massive puddle of blood on the floor, and more was smeared on the walls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale miracled up a chair, and sat down delicately on it. “Crawly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The demon moaned, and opened one eye. He stiffened as he saw Aziraphale. “What do you want?” he croaked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to know why you did what you did,” said Aziraphale, “There’s tons of demons in Hell to do your work for you. And you could have killed me. So explain."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crawly made a weird barking noise that Aziraphale realised was his version of a laugh. “No demon would do work they can make another do.” His eyes softened. “And I needed a spy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale stared at Crawly, who determinedly avoided his eyes. He stood up, miracled the chair away, and left the cell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just missed being caught by Gabriel, who he assumed was taking Crawly to the ampitheatre. And as he walked down dozens of flights of stairs to his floor, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for the demon. Surely no creature deserved this, no matter what they’d done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as Aziraphale thought of the souls languishing in Hell because of him, he couldn’t be quite sure.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Crawly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was what Aziraphale had called him. He must have got it off one of the other angels. Did they talk about him? Was he the laughingstock of Heaven and Hell?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley couldn’t find it in himself to care. He only had one focus now: escape. And so far, he’d manage to work out the three parts of the plan:</span>
</p><p> </p><ol>
<li><span>Unlock his manacles.</span></li>
<li><span>Unlock his cell door.</span></li>
<li><span>Make it out of Heaven, past all of the guards, before they noticed he was gone.</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d given himself a 0.02% chance of escaping when he first arrived. Now he was looking at 0. But he kept watching the guards. Looking for doubt, looking for gaps in their shifts, for laziness, pity, or anything else that might help him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was none. The closest he’d got was Aziraphale, coming and trying to see his thought processes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley was still turning over Aziraphale’s visit in his head when Gabriel came for him. Two angels dragged him out of his cell and down the hallways, down a secure lift and into the amphitheatre that Crowley was now used to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They chained him to a table while Gabriel addressed the amassed angels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This demon led humanity into the creation of many things to aid Hell, such as the Spanish Inquisition and the M25. In fact, he created sin. But more than any other group of humans, he spent a lot of his time with the Vikings. He taught them many, many things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley winced. He’d suggested a few things, like using the same mould for Thor’s  hammer and a cross, but most of the really nasty stuff they’d thought up themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“According to our records they are where he received the most commendations from Hell. So today we decided to draw inspiration from them. The Blood Eagle was a form of execution used by the Vikings, but of course we’re not going to let him die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The angels laughed. Crowley took a deep breath, bracing himself. He’d heard of the Blood Eagle before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel picked up a blessed sword, and stabbed Crowley right in his tailbone. He screamed, thrashing against the chains, but angels came over and held him in position as Gabriel brought the sword up towards his ribcage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel discarded the sword and picked up an axe, using it to hack each rib away from the backbone. Tears streamed down his face as Gabriel poured salt on his back, which was then </span>
  <em>
    <span>rubbed in </span>
  </em>
  <span>by two angels. Of all the things Gabriel had done, this was second only to the blessings. And humans used to do this to each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel miracled the salt away, so he could have clear access to Crowley’s organs. He folded the ribs out one by one, and then pulled his lungs out over the top.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Vikings did this to mimic a pair of wings,” Gabriel said over Crowley’s screams. “That’s why it’s called the Blood </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eagle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A human would be dead by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabriel pulled a black metal rod out of a pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Had to go all the way up to the top to get this,” he said as he rested the end against Crowley’s left lung. “But it was worth every bit of paperwork.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed a button, and Crowley screamed again as electricity coursed down the end and into his exposed lung. Gabriel moved the rod to his other lung, then each rib, then his neck, and the bottoms of his feet, and finally, to top it all off, he shoved it down Crowley’s throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held it there for several minutes as Crowley choked, before finally withdrawing it. Gabriel left the amphitheatre, just saying “Leave him here, this time,” to the guards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s stomach sank. His one chance to escape, not having to worry about step 2, and he was unable to move because of the agonising pain, as well as the fact he really needed his lungs </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>his body. The angels filed out to go about their daily business, while he lay there until he passed out from pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>For six days Crowley stayed chained to the table, fading in and out of consciousness, as passing angels kicked him in the side, slapped him, punched him, beat him with a stick, or just did whatever else they felt like. Until on the sixth day, when Heaven was in Night Mode, Aziraphale visited him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked down pityingly at him, before reaching out and touching him on the shoulder. Crowley flinched away, but Aziraphale gripped him tightly, and slowly, some of his pain began to fade away as he healed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did Gabriel send you?” Crowley asked. It was the first time he’d been able to talk properly in ages.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Aziraphale sat down on a chair he miracled up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you doing this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because no one deserves to have that done to them. No matter what the crime is. There’s no chance Gabriel’s going to let you go. And I don’t think he’s planning on killing you anytime soon. You’ve had no reprieve for four months now. So let me give you one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get punished for this,” Crowley said, “And you th-I had you under my spell for </span>
  <em>
    <span>six thousand years. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe it’s not fair, but why would you risk yourself like this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Aziraphale answered, before standing and half-running out of the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought Crowley, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that was unexpected. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And also worrying. If Aziraphale got himself into trouble, he’d have to think up some way to persuade Gabriel it was his fault. And fix the spell he’d put on Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>That morning, when Gabriel arrived to check on Crowley, he was furious. He was convinced that Crowley had managed to miracle his injuries away. Crowley didn’t plan on correcting him. Gabriel whisked him away back to his cell, which was blessed on all surfaces again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time Crowley didn’t notice as Gabriel and Sandalphon beat him, sprayed him with holy water, and carved holy symbols into his skin. His thoughts were filled with worry for Aziraphale, and he was numb to the outside world. They clamped more angelic manacles on him, to try and stop him healing himself again, and then left him. Crowley just hoped they never found out about Aziraphale.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Blood Eagle was a real thing that the Vikings did as a form of execution.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>note: holy manacles are manacles used by angels on other angels or demons and they stop whoever's wearing them from using miracles, and restrict them so that their corporation is almost human</p><p>9/3<br/>So I haven't updated in ages but I promise I haven't abandoned this fic - I just decided I didn't like the original ending and I was rewriting it but I've been losing motivation, but it should be up soon</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>